My mental health story

Whilst baby and I are sat at home stuck with a stinking cold, I’m somewhat uninspired for a blog post , therefore in the spirit of mental health awareness month I’m going to write my story.

When speaking to my family they always remember me when I was younger for being the joyful smiley child, rarely I was moody or upset, unfortunately like a lot of people this all changed in secondary school. The years of judgement and feeling like “I’m not pretty enough” or “I’m not skinny enough” that’s why nobody likes me. Everyone has clear skin why do I have spots all over my face. It got to the point where one music lesson a boy (no name telling, two wrongs don’t make a right) stabbed me multiple times in the face with his pencil, repeatedly saying “you’ve got a spot there”. I cried my eyes out after that day.

Then year 8 and 9 came about and that’s when the change started to happen, with the pressure of school I started seeing the school councillor , it got to the point where I spent majority of my lunches and breaks in their room as well as sessions on top. Year 9 was when the self harm started and it got really bad, to the point of attempted suicide, then it happened again in year 10 and year 11 even my first year in college. Year 10 was when I started seeing things on the wall in blood and hearing voices all the time telling me I would never be good enough.

That was when the running began, at first it was just to be healthy and have a better body that I was proud of, that had a different affect, it became obsessive I would go on an hours run at 5 in the morning and do an extra hour of working out after school. What started out with good intentions turned into something that was destroying me day by day.

Looking at the photos above I realise I had gotten too skinny, i wasn’t eating enough at one point or I binged on everything bad for me. But on these photos everyone was saying that I was looking really good and how was I doing it. I point blank lied to everyone saying oh it’s just exercise and eating right. All lies but the compliments made it easier for me to trick my mind into making it seem like I was doing it in a healthy way. I managed to believe all my lies.

College it still continued to be bad but I had my ups more than my downs, the down days would hit me hard and slam me into a brick wall. HOWEVER that was when i made the decision to drop out and change my life for the better, I wanted to be better, back then it was just for my mum and my sister. When you’re 18 CAMHS send you off, I was then moved onto Italk. I put my hands up and surrendered, admitted that I had a problem and give them credit as I’m not the easiest person to deal with in the those sorts of situations they helped. I never considered CBT (cognitive behavioural therapy) to work until I decided to just try. They made me realise my depression triggered my anxiety and not the other way round

After being in therapy for years I’m finally out. If it wasn’t for the likes of Lewis and my family I wouldn’t of deleted my suicidal themed tumblr which used to trigger the hell out of me. Now that I’ve had my baby boy, mum said I’m turning into my happier old self again and she’s seen a change and I agree. Yes I have scars all over my body but not as bad as some have it and yes Dominic will grow up with a mummy that has scars on her. Life is better and I made it, mental health is a serious matter, you never know what people are going through. It’s not something to be made seem normal or ok or something beautiful because it’s not. It’s absolute F***ing hell. Sometimes you have to visit the deepest worst place in the world to learn what life really has to offer and how to handle the bad better and embrace the positive and be grateful for it.

This was a very brief insight into my story maybe one day I’ll be able to explain everything that happened or explain some causes of everything, I’m not “recovered” but I’m definitely a lot closer to it than I ever have been before.

Big love to my family and friends for making me see my worth, and to Dominic who is the absolute light of my life.

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One thought on “My mental health story”

Those scars are battle scars. The ones you wear on the outside are an outward sign of the ones you have inside. The important thing about them is that they can only be seen because you have survived. They are nothing to be ashamed of in fact you can wear them with pride in my opinion because you are a survivor and have dealt with demons that not all of us have to face. Dominic will love you scars and all. I think you’re wonderful.